


A Study In Raspberry

by youjik33



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, ToT: Monster Mash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: Mabel and Stan might be thousands of miles away from each other, but they can still watch the Duck-tective movie together, thanks to the modern magic of internet livestreaming. Only a freak electrical accident gets them a little more involved in the movie than they'd expected...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Healy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healy/gifts).



> Healy's ToT letter listed "shows within shows" as a "like", and I instantly wanted to do something involving Duck-tective. Hope you enjoy!

“Popcorn, check. Chippackers, check. Entire six-pack of Pitt Soda, check. Last remnants of Halloween candy, check. Huh, looks like we’re just down to those weird nougats.”

“Mabel,” Dipper said with some concern, watching his sister settle down on her bed surrounded by snacks. “I feel like there’s a good chance if you actually eat all of that you might die.”

“I’m not actually sure this is enough,” Mabel said. “I never did get around to making that pan of brownies. If you want a can of soda, though, you can have one.”

“Very generous,” Dipper said dryly. “I’m gonna go downstairs and study.”

“Finals aren’t for weeks. Are you sure you don’t want to watch the movie with us?

“Thanks but no thanks. I never really got into Duck-tective anyway.”

“This thing on?” a gruff voice said from Mabel’s laptop speakers. “Oh, hey, kiddo! Wow, this internet thing is pretty impressive.”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel squealed in excitement. “Where are you right now?”

“Somewhere in the South China Sea. Probably gonna stay down here for the winter. And, hey, I got the movie, as promised.” He held a DVD case up to the camera, the cover plastered with a picture of a very familiar-looking duck wearing a deerstalker cap.

“That’s amazing, Grunkle Stan! I didn’t even think the Duck-tective movie was out on DVD yet.”

“It is in Taiwan,” Stan chuckled. It didn’t occur to Mabel to question this.

“I’m surprised you get internet access in the middle of the ocean,” Dipper piped up, peeking over Mabel’s shoulder at the screen.

“I had to boost the signal,” Ford’s voice came from somewhere behind Stan. “It’s really amazing how far computer technology on Earth has come in the years I was gone. I just had to build an electrical array strong enough to-”

“Yeah, yeah, and we’re all impressed, thank you, Poindexter. Go back out on the deck and keep doing your nerd stuff.”

“HiGrunkleFord!” Mabel and Dipper both shouted while he could still hear them.

“So I just put this disc in here, and press Play, and then we can both watch it, apparently,” Stan said. “Okay, kid, ready for Duck-tective 3D? ...well, without the 3D part.”

“Am I!” Mabel bounced up and down from her perch on the bed. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to avoid any spoilers whatsoever? I didn’t even watch the trailers. I’m going in totally cold.”

“All right, here it goes,” Stan said.

Dipper hoisted his math textbook and headed downstairs to the den.

 

–

 

Thousands of miles from California, Ford emerged on the deck of the Stan-O-War II. There were stormclouds growing on the horizon, and they made him a little nervous – the beacon he’d set up on deck so that Stan and Mabel could watch their silly movie over the computer would definitely be a magnet for lightning, if the storm got any closer. He’d have to monitor the electrical fields closely.

Suddenly an alarm sounded on the control panel. A shower of golden sparks fell from the top of the tower. The storm was still miles away, but the electrical readings were off the charts.

Ford ran back below deck, jumping down the stairs. “Stanley!” he shouted. “Turn the computer off right now, it’s too dangerous-”

Ford burst through the door, and then sagged against the frame. He was too late. The cabin was completely empty, except for the laptop, whose screen flickered mysteriously.

 

–

 

Dipper was deep into a set of practice math problems, a cup of hot cocoa at his side, when he was rudely interrupted.

“Waddles, what are you doing in here?” Dipper asked. The pig continued to run circles around the room, squealing. “What the heck’s wrong with you? Did Mabel feed you Pop Rocks again?”

He sighed and closed his book, trudging upstairs with every intention of telling Mabel to take care of her hyperactive pet.

But the bedroom was empty.

 

–

 

“Wow,” Mabel said. “This 3D is amazing. I feel like I’m actually there.” She’d binge-watched the entire TV series in preparation, and Duck-tective’s office was practically a second home. Well, except for one of the walls. For some reason she remembered seeing three of the walls in the show very clearly, but not the fourth. Not that it was a very interesting wall – just gray and drab, without even an inspirational cat poster to liven it up.

There was a flurry of disgruntled noises behind her, which she quite clearly understood to mean “What the heck is going on here?”, even though it sounded like quacking.

Mabel turned and found herself face to face with a very familiar bird. Well, “face to face” wasn’t entirely accurate; he only came up to her knee, roughly.

“Duck-tective!” she gasped. “Is it really you?” Her voice sounded strange. Deeper, and more... British-y.

“Duck-tective?” the duck quacked. “Wait a minute. Mabel?”

“Oh my gosh,” Mabel breathed, eyes going wide. “Duck-tective knows my name!”

“Mabel, it’s me,” the duck said.

“I know it is!” Mabel couldn’t resist – she scooped the duck into her arms and gave him a squeeze. His feathers were just as soft as she’d imagined.

“Ugh, stop that,” he said, squirming. “Your mustache is really ticklish.”

“My what now?” Mabel put a hand to her face. There was indeed a mustache under her nose. She looked down – why was she wearing a blue uniform? “...Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah, apparently I’m a duck now,” he replied. “This, uh, this isn’t normal, is it?”

“I don’t think so.” She set him down and looked around the office. There was a mirror on the back of the door, and she took the opportunity to admire her impressive mustache in it. “Or maybe it is. The reviews did say Duck-tective 3D was an incredibly immersive experience.”

“Yeah, I don’t think this is what they meant,” Stan said. “Something weird must be going on. I don’t know if my brother’s nerd experiments caused it or what, but we have to figure out how to get out of here.”

The door to the office burst open just then, and in walked a young woman. She wore a red dress – of course – and her blonde hair tumbled in graceful waves over her shoulders. She held a handkerchief, which she used to dab at her huge dark eyes. She’d obviously been crying, but her mascara and shockingly red lipstick were immaculate.

“Oh, Duck-tective,” she gasped, bosom heaving. “Please, you have to help me!”

“On second thought,” Stan quacked, “we might as well stick around to see what she wants.”

 

–

 

Dipper had survived Weirdmaggeddon; he should have been prepared for just about anything. But he’d spent the last few months living a comfortably normal life in Piedmont, and his sister being sucked into the computer screen had come as a shock.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he found himself babbling. “What do I do, what do I do?”

He was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and sat down on the bed amid Mabel’s piles of snacks. He grabbed a circus peanut from the pile and squeezed it like a stress ball, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

“Dipper?” a familiar voice came said through the computer’s speakers. “Is that you?”

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper felt a wave of relief wash over him. Ford would know what to do. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Ford said. Dipper could see him on the webcam now, frowning as he squinted at the screen. “There was a strange electrical disturbance, and Stanley’s vanished.”

“Mabel too,” Dipper said. “Where are they?”

“I have a hunch,” Ford said. “Look at the movie screen.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am, Duck-tective and the Constable are on the case!” the constable was saying.

“Yeah, toots, don’t worry, I never let a pretty lady down,” Duck-tective said. Well, he just quacked a lot, and his dialogue was subtitled at the bottom of the screen, with a row of Chinese characters over the top of it.

“I don’t remember Duck-tective being this flirty,” Dipper mused out loud.

The woman tearfully left the office, and the Constable turned and said “All right, Grunkle Stan! I’m sure we can solve this case. I kind of wish I’d read some plot spoilers now, though.”

“Wait,” Dipper said. “What?”

“It’s just as I feared,” Ford said soberly. “They’ve been somehow teleported into the film.”

“They’re inside the movie?” Dipper said. “How does that even work?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve heard a theory that every piece of fiction is actually representative of an alternate dimension, but I never saw any actual evidence of this, even in all my travels.”

“Wait, if that were true, that would mean that there’s some dimension where we exist as a TV show or something,” Dipper said. The thought of his entire private life possibly being on display to an alien race was too intensely embarrassing to think about.

“Indeed,” Ford said. “Let’s not trouble with that right now, though. We have to get them out of there.”

“How do we do that?”

“That’s going to depend on exactly what it is that caused them to slip through the dimensional barrier in the first place. I have a few theories I’d like to test...”

Dipper sighed and turned his attention to the duo on the screen. “Stay safe, Mabel,” he murmured.

 

-

 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Pennington,” Constable Mabel declared. “We’ll find your missing husband or die trying!”

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” Mrs. Pennington sniffed daintily into her lace handkerchief one last time. “And do please let me know if there’s anything I can do to be of help.”

Stan attempted a dashing bow as she exited, but it was a bit spoiled by the fact that ducks don’t really have a waist. “Wowza,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone make sobbing look so attractive.”

“But Grunkle Stan, that lady was clearly the villain of this mystery.”

“What? Are you out of your gourd, kid?” Stan hopped onto the top of the desk in an effort to look Mabel in the eye; it didn’t quite work. “The gorgeous teary dame asking for help finding her missing husband can’t be the villain. Why would she want help if she was in on it?”

“Because, Grunkle Stan, that way we wouldn’t suspect her. And in case you didn’t notice, Mrs. Arabella Pennington was played by none other than Janie Lambert. She’s like, the highest-paid actress alive right now. She won Teen Choice Awards three years running. They’re not going to hire someone that high-profile without giving her a really juicy part, and the traitorous femme fatale villain is the obvious choice.” She hesitated. “And also, did you seriously just use the word ‘dame’?”

Stan ignored the addendum. “Argh, okay. You might be right. Does it even matter? I’m sure my egghead brother will figure out how to yank us out of here before too long. It’s not like we actually have to solve this mystery.”

“What if we do, though?” Mabel said. “Maybe this place will only let us go if we finish the story! And anyway, what else are we going to do, just sit around this boring office? Luckily I was taking notes.” She held up her notebook, which was covered in shiny multi-colored stars.

“Where did you even get those stickers?” Stan asked.

“The top drawer of the desk.” She held up her pen, which was pink plastic and had a spray of silvery tinsel poking out the top. Stan didn’t even bother asking where that had come from. “Okay, here’s what we have so far. Arabella’s husband, Colin, works for the power company. He called her Tuesday to say he was going to be working late, and then never came home. At first she wasn’t worried, because she thought he’d just fallen asleep at the office and missed the last train. But nobody seems to have seen him since.” She blinked at the paper. “I just realized I have no idea what day it is in here.”

“Friday,” Stan said, pointing with his wing toward the desk calendar. “Assuming Duck-tective keeps up on his page-a-day.”

“Fantastic, Grunkle Stan! You’re as smart as the real Duck-tective. We can totally crack this case.” There was a puppy sitting in a basket with a ribbon around its neck on the calendar page, which Mabel took a moment to admire.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan grumbled, but his chest feathers puffed up in pride. “So she said some mysterious goons had been sniffing around her house. Maybe we can track them down and make ‘em talk.” He sighed. “That would be a whole lot easier if I wasn’t a duck.”

“We need to find out where he was last seen. I say we go to his office.”

“Guess we might as well give it a try.”

They headed out of the building into the foggy London streets. Extra foggy, actually – it looked almost like a fog machine was blowing just out of sight. But it wasn’t so dense that they couldn’t see the police car parked along the curb in front of the building.

Mabel put her hand into the pocket of the constable’s uniform and pulled out a ring of keys, her eyes gleaming in anticipation.

“Uh, maybe we should hail a cab,” Stan suggested.

“What? Why hail a cab when we have a perfectly good car right here?”

“Mabel...” There was a note of worry in his quacking.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Grunkle Stan, how hard can driving a car be?”

 

-

 

They ultimately made it to the energy company’s office headquarters with the car in one piece, though both bumpers had a few dents and Stan was very grateful he’d been able to fasten his seat belt with his beak.

He was also getting a little grumpy about being carried under Mabel’s arm constantly. It made sense, though; his little duck legs just didn’t move very fast. “I hope we can get this over with soon,” he grumbled. “This is humiliating, and I’ve got this weird craving for bread crumbs – oh my gosh, it’s you!”

“Excuse me?” the man Stan had been addressing responded. He was a middle-aged, gray-haired gentleman, and he quirked one silver eyebrow eloquently. “Your reputation certainly precedes you, Duck-tective, but I don’t believe we’ve ever been acquainted. My name is Edmund Wellesleyhamshire, I am Mr. Pennington’s direct superior. I do assume you’ve come about his disappearance?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stan said. “Man, I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Duck-tective,” Mabel whispered. “He’s not an actor, he’s Colin Pennington’s boss. In a cameo role, I guess.”

“Let me show you to his office,” Edmund said. “I daresay we’ve found no clue as to his whereabouts, but perhaps your superior eye will turn up something we’ve missed.”

Stan maintained his composure until they were left alone in Pennington’s empty office. “Really, Mabel, how did you not recognize him?” he exploded.

She just shrugged. “Who was he, again?”

“You know!” Stan said. “The guy! From that thing! With the dog!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It was the best movie ever! What was the name of it? Something about... Red something. No, blue. It was definitely a color. Or was it?”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it,” Mabel said. “We have to look for some clues.”

Pennington’s office was neat and tidy, though. There weren’t any incriminating notes left in the trash can, no abandoned day planner in a locked desk drawer. “Maybe he keeps his schedule on his computer,” Mabel suggested, powering it on.

The screen flickered strangely, a high-pitched electrically charged whine filling the air. “....you hear me?” a tinny voice said through the speakers. “....bel and Stanley, this is....”

Stan fluttered onto the desk and gave the monitor a sharp rap with his beak. “Ford, is that you?”

“Yes, thank goodness...” There was another burst of static. “...most figured it out, you two just have to find...”

“Spoilers!” Mabel shouted.

“Really?” Stan said. “You’re still worried about spoilers at a time like this?”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Tell us where we have to go, Grunkle Ford.”

The speakers were silent, the computer screen just a blank blue.

“...Grunkle Ford?” she said again.

“...the highest point...” Ford’s voice cut through the static. “...porta... at the...”

They both leaned in close, trying to make out the garbled sounds.

“The jam?” Mabel asked. “What are we supposed to do with jam? And does it matter what flavor?”

“Dam,” Stan said.

“I get that you’re frustrated, but we can’t give up now!”

“What? No, no, dam, like with water and all that. There was a hydro-whatsit dam being built outside of town. The kind that generates electricity.”

“Wow, how’d you figure that out?” Mabel asked, impressed.

“Uh,” Stan said. “I’m a master of deduction?”

Suspicious, Mabel turned around, and saw the giant blueprint tacked up to the wall of the office. MUNICIPAL DAM, it said in huge block letters across the top. “According to this,” Mabel said, “The control center for the dam is on a seaside cliff just outside the city.”

“Which is probably the ‘highest point’ my brother was talking about,” Stan extrapolated. “So I guess that’s our next stop.”

“This is great!” Mabel said. “If there’s a way home there, we don’t have to spoil the plot of the movie at all! And we better bring some jam, too. Just in case.”

 

-

 

It was night by the time Mabel pulled the car up to the gates of the dam control center, and the moon was covered by thick dark clouds. Even Mabel was a little nervous about the winding road and the spooky weather; everything seemed like the perfect setting for a final confrontation. “Highest point,” Mabel said thoughtfully, strolling around the outside of the gates. “You think that means up there?”

There was a service ladder built into one of the sheer brick walls, at least a few hundred feet up, practically disappearing into the darkness.

Stan broke into a cold sweat. “Maybe we should explore the ground level first,” he said.

“I thought we got you over your fear of heights,” Mabel said.

“Did we?” He laughed nervously, a very strange sound coming from a duck. “Look, there’s just a regular old padlock on the gate. I could get through that thing in seconds if I had a bobby pin. And fingers.”

“Got it,” Mabel said, fishing a hairpin out of her pocket.

“Where the heck did you get that?”

“I bought it when I was buying the jam. Just in case.”

She had the lock open in minutes.

“That’s my girl,” Stan said proudly.

The place looked like a fortress – high brick walls, smooth gray concrete underfoot. They crept cautiously through the empty space, Mabel holding tightly to her jar of jam. All the doors they found were locked, and soon they found themselves standing on the edge of the reservoir. Stan stood on the ledge and took a peek at the dark water far below and instantly jumped back down, weak-kneed.

“This would be a lot easier if we had any idea what we were looking for,” he said.

There was the unmistakable sound of a gun safety clicking off behind them. Stan swore under his breath, and they both turned slowly, coming face to face with Arabella Pennington.

“Told you,” Mabel whispered with a smile.

“Well, well, well,” Arabella said, full red lips twisted into a wicked grin. “How did you figure out that we were holding Colin here all along?”

“You are?” Stan said. “We never actually found him.”

She looked momentarily taken aback, then composed herself, holding the gun level. “And you never will,” she said. “...why are you holding a jar of raspberry jam?”

“The Constable likes jam,” Stan quacked. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So tell me, detectives, how did you manage to see through the false trail? The clues I planted should have sent you halfway to Berlin by now.”

“Wow,” Stan said. “Yeah, we never actually found any of those.”

Arabella’s delicate blonde eyebrows knit together, and she frowned. “Then how did you figure out our plan?” she asked. “That we’ve been forcing Colin to sabotage the hydroelectric dam on behalf of the coal industry--”

“NO SPOILERS!” Mabel screamed, lobbing her jar of jam at Arabella as hard as she could. The gun clattered to the concrete, and the jam jar shattered, splattering raspberry goo everywhere.

Stan took the opportunity to launch himself at Arabella, flapping his wings in her face. “Get the gun!” he shouted to Mabel.

“Get off of me, you filthy creature!” Arabella shrieked, flailing wildly at the attacking waterfowl. One of her high heels slipped in the spilled jam, and with a scream, she tripped backwards over the edge of the reservoir, hands closing around Stan’s small uck body and pulling him with her.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel wailed, falling to her knees. “Grunkle Stan, no, you can’t sacrifice yourself, not again!” A sob escaped her throat, and she wiped her stinging eyes.

There was a soft quack from above. “Pull yourself together, kid.”

She looked up to see Stan fluttering onto the ledge beside her. His feathers were rumpled and he’d lost his hat, but looked otherwise none the worse for wear. “You’re alive!” Mabel gasped.

“I’m a duck, remember? I can fly. Kinda nice that was actually good for something for once.”

Mabel squeezed him so hard he could barely breathe, but he didn’t complain.

“Arabella?” she asked.

“I dunno. Fell into the reservoir, but without an onscreen confirmed death I guess they could write her into the sequel.”

“So now what?” Mabel asked. “We solved the mystery.”

‘We did? I never actually figured out what was going on.”

Mabel ignored him, turning to examine their surroundings. A flash of lightning pierced the sky and made her jump.

“Highest point,” she said again. “I think we’ll have to climb after all.”

“I’m actually a lot more okay with that now that I remembered I have wings.”

Stan was exhausted by the time his inefficient duck wings had carried himself to the top of the outer wall. Mabel, on the other hand, seemed as perky as ever.

“Okay, we’re up here,” she said. “Do you think we’re looking for some kind of portal, or...”

“How about that?” Stan pointed a wing at a metal tower on the corner of the wall, which was glowing softly yellow. Occasionally little arcs of electricity sparked out of it.

They approached it cautiously.

“Maybe we’ll get zapped home if we touch it,” Mabel said. “Then again, maybe we’ll just die.”

“Whoa, dudes, hey,” a voice said. They stared at each other in surprise. Whatever they’d been expecting, a disembodied voice with a stereotypical California surfer accent was definitely not it. “Yeah, you don’t wanna touch me, I’m really full right now and I’d zap you good.”

The yellow glow surrounding the tower detached itself, elongated, and formed something that looked a little like a centipede, except a fifty feet long, floating just above the ground, and glowing like a thousand-watt light bulb.

“So my name’s Jeff,” it said.

“I’m Mabel,” Mabel said, and then nudged Stan.

“Stanley,” he said. “Uh, nice to meet you, Jeff.”

“Actually my real name would be totally unpronouncable to humans,” Jeff said. “But like, whatever, Jeff is the name I feel, like, in my soul.”

“Okay, great,” Stan said. “So, um, what are you?”

“I’m a portapede,” he said, in a tone that suggested it was obvious. “An interdimensional traveler that eats energy. I was pretty tapped out when I found your boat, and like, sorry, I should’ve asked first, but I really needed a snack, you know? There was all this energy coming from your transmission tower, and it just smelled soooo good. But I guess there was some interference with your computer or whatever and I accidentally pulled you guys into this pocket dimension with me.”

“Pocket dimension?” Mabel asked. “So is the Duck-tective dimension actually real?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Jeff said. “But we’re not really in it, we’re in like, an adjacent dimension created by your imaginations, get it?”

“Awesome,” said Mabel.

“No,” said Stan.

“Anyway, I’m all recharged now, it’s cool. I can totally take you guys home. Just let me adjust my output so I don’t fry you with the energy blast.”

“That’s incredibly reassuring,” said Stan.

“Relax,” Mabel chirped. “I’m sure Jeff knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Not like I have a choice,” Stan sighed.

“Hold still, dudes,” Jeff said. His body slinked through the air, forming a circle around them. Mabel’s hair stood on end from the residual electricity; so did Stan’s feathers. He found himself holding his breath and pressing closely against Mabel’s leg as the light surrounding them got brighter and brighter...

 

-

 

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper shouted, hugging his uncle in relief.

Stan blinked to clear the spots from his vision, hugging him back. “Hey, kiddo. Looks like we made it. Man, it’s nice to have arms again.” He looked around, realization dawning as he took in his surroundings – the shockingly pink bedspread, the boy band posters on the walls, the ankle-deep pile of candy on the floor, Waddles munching on spilled popcorn. “Wait a sec. If I’m here...”

 

-

 

“Oh dear,” Ford murmured. “I didn’t anticipate this.”

Mabel cackled in delight as an ocean wave sent a salty spray over the bow of the Stan-O-War. “This is amazing!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to miss so much school!”

 


End file.
